Bold claim: trauma isn’t just a theme in horror—it’s the monster. If you’re scouting for a modern horror film that recalibrates this idea with precision, His House is a must-watch. Some critics argue that the notion “the real monster is trauma” has become overused in the genre. Compare Hereditary, The Babadook, and Smile, and you’ll see the tonal spectrum; yet few films harness this trope as deftly as Remi Weekes’s 2020 standout, His House.
The story centers on Bol and Rial, refugees from South Sudan portrayed with remarkable gravity by Sope Dirisu and Wunmi Mosaku. Their honed performances elevate the film beyond conventional haunted-house material. Mosaku, in particular, radiates a nuanced screen presence that could easily have propelled her to superstardom under different circumstances.
Horror isn’t only about dramatic chops, of course—and His House delivers on the scare front, too. The couple ends up in a dilapidated house on the fringes of London, where plaster peels, walls are pierced with holes, and electricity behaves unpredictably. It’s their new home, however—an uneasy refuge from civil war and genocide elsewhere in their world.
Remi Weekes wastes no time tightening the tension. Expect more psychological dread than textbook jump scares. The house is ominous, but the air outside—on the streets and in the neighboring block—feels equally perilous. Neighbors and officials alike exude menace, shaping a claustrophobic atmosphere where trust is scarce and danger lurks at every corner.
Even Bol and Rial’s well-meaning aids, such as their caseworker Mark (played by Matt Smith), struggle to mask disdain toward the new arrivals. Bol’s attempts to adapt to British life collide with the guilt over what they left behind—and with survivors who didn’t make it—driving him toward the brink. As the narrative unfolds, flashbacks gradually reveal the extreme measures Bol and Rial undertook to escape South Sudan’s violence and reveal what continues to haunt them.
His House stands out as a rare achievement: it blends supernatural dread with stark real-world horror and heartbreak in a seamless, emotionally resonant package. If you’re craving scares that come with a heavy emotional punch, this film fits the bill. It’s available to stream on Netflix.
What makes this film especially provocative is how it invites debate: is trauma a monster that animates the frightening events, or is it a product of systems that fail asylum seekers? And does the supernatural element amplify or distort the real horrors these characters endured? These questions invite discussion in the comments about how you interpret the film’s chilling components—and whether the portrayal of trauma in horror shifts your view of fear itself.
Would you say His House leverages its horror elements to illuminate genuine human peril, or does it risk sensationalizing trauma for suspense? Share your take below.
